


Doubt thou the stars are fire.

by TayBartlett9000



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
Genre: Earth, First Meeting, Friendship, Hamlet - Freeform, Humans, Humour, Language, Love, M/M, Planet, Shakespear, Understanding, alien - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 10:19:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15313392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TayBartlett9000/pseuds/TayBartlett9000
Summary: Ford Prefect has been stranded on  Earth for what seems like years, but his bleak future soon looks up when he meets Arthur Dent in the local pub, and the two men bond over Shakespear's Hamlet.





	Doubt thou the stars are fire.

Doubt thou the stars are fire.

 

The pub was slowly growing quiet around Ford Prefect as he sat alone at the table next to the window, lost in thought and  closely scrutinising the pages of the book before him. His brow furrowed in intense concentration as he carefully read the words  in front of him. Gladdened by the fact that  that holy remarkable book ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ had a section on learning the language of this ape-like species, he was nevertheless confused beyond measure. Though the language of the Earthborn species was simple in comparison to a species like the Betelgeusian or the Damagranian, these words were not.

The low lighting above his head picked out the letters printed upon the pages of the book that he had bought a few hours ago, hoping to use it in his quest to make a life for himself on this doomed rock.

Ford Prefect had been on Earth for some time now.  He couldn’t be precisely sure as to how long he had been  stranded on the planet as his lack of understanding made   tracking the time   difficult. It certainly seemed like years. He had hoped that he would stay for only a week, but his rescue had been denied him thus far. He had spent the past month wandering Earth alone, researching the planet and its indigenous life forms, both the  ape-like ones and the four legged creatures to whom the ape-like people seemed to lavish so much attention.

When it became apparent that a rescue from a passing space craft would not be soon in coming, Ford had applied himself to the learning of the homo   sapian  language and the installation of his good self into the groups and communities in which they lived.

That was why he needed this book.

From what he had discovered so far, the ape-like  descendents of Earth were incredibly fond of watching  others of their kind acting out various situations on a screen in either their homes or  in buildings   created specifically for that purpose. He had no idea why the human race delighted in such activities, for he had watched one of these displays out of curiosity and hadn’t understood one bit of it.

 Ford had considered this rather strange notion and had eventually decided that to join this group  of entertainers, or at least to pretend to do so would be a prudent move. So, he   had   purchased this book in the hope of appearing to be one of those entertainers. Acters. That’s what the  Earthborn species called them, and they seemed to revere their actors. Ford rather liked the idea of being a more than acceptable member of Earth’s society. It would help to  safeguard his secret.

Leaning forward, Ford Prefect angled the book  towards the light and continued to read. The man who had penned this  particular script was said to be a much beloved figure within the world of acting and theator. Ford didn’t know why William Shakespear was so important, as  his writing style didn’t  seem to make sense. Perhaps that was part of the charm. He didn’t see much charm in it, but he wasn’t of Earth of course.

‘Doubt thou the stars are fire,’ the words read, ‘doubt that the sun doth move,  doubt truth to be a lyer, but  never doubt I love.’

Looking up, Ford noticed that a man with dark hair was making his way towards him, a tall glass of something alcoholic in his left hand. He was making his way directly for the table at which Ford sat and he wracked his brains  for any excuse he could possibly find to escape this  pending social situation. He had never partaken in a conversation with an Earthborn person before and wasn’t  at all sure how he would approach the issue. As the man sat down at his side, Ford surmised that he could avoid the  inevitable no longer and  so took up the challenge, glad for the bable fish now nestling in his ear. At least he wouldn’t have to struggle with the language barrier.

“Good evening,” the dark haired man said cordially, placing the glass upon the table in front of him, “I’m Arthur. Arthur Dent.”

Ford thought fast. He had already decided upon the name Ford Prefect and launched into the conversation with confidence. “Ford Prefect,” he said brightly, holding out his hand in what he thought was the traditional homo sapian greeting, “I’m Ford Prefect.

To his dismay, the man who had called  himself Arthur Dent looked  confused, even slightly amused. “Unusual name,” he said, lips twisting upwards in a slight smile. It was one of the nicer  expressions that Ford had seen on the faces of the human species and he certainly liked the look of this  man’s expression.

“Is it?” Ford asked innocently. ‘Oh god,’ He thought inside his head. Already  his life as a human was falling apart.

Arthur Dent leaned forward, examining the script upon the  table in front of Ford. “Reading Hamlet, are you?”

Flipping the book over, the better to look at the title  emblazoned upon it, Ford nodded.  He hadn’t  been paying much attention to the title or plot of this book. The words themselves had been enough to baffle him. “Yes,” he said, “that’s right. I’m an acter, you see, and I’m reading this play for my next job. You know what I mean?” He paused here,  knowing that he sounded  like a fool of subnormal intelligence but  also knowing that he could do very little about it.

Arthur Dent didn’t seem to have noticed. He frowned. “I’m surprised you have the patience for  that stuff,” he said with feeling, “we had to read  Hamlet at school. Honestly, they call it timeless and I reckon they’re right. It feels like it goes on for bloody ever.”

Ford smiled in what he hoped was a pleasant manner. “I didn’t,” he told Arthur quietly, “and I have to say that I don’t really  understand the idea of this particular play.”

Arthur frowned. “I don’t blame you,” he replied, “I mean, no disrespect to the man  himslf but God I was bored. I felt as if I was literally watching grass growing before my eyes.”

“And that is a  boring  thing to do?” Ford asked. He had never heard of watching grass growing before and didn’t think it was a pastime often  enjoyed by the people of Earth.

“Damn right it’s boring,” Arthur said with another tight lipped smile, lifting the glass to his lips and draining it in one. “Good luck to you, mate. I don’t envy having to act in that thing. Which part are you playing?”

Ford inwardly cursed this  human’s curiosity. He hadn’t thought of that. Flipping through the book to the page on which was written the horrifically long cast list, he glanced down at it, trying to find a character that was important but not too much of a main part.

“Claudius,” he said finally, “I don’t think he’s in the play too much but I still have to read the entire thing.”

A short spell of  silence fell  between them and  Ford closed the book, placing it to one side and looking at Arthur who was  preparing to fetch a  second  pint.

Turning to Ford, Arthur proffered the glass. “Fancy a drink, Ford?” he asked politely, “it’s on me.”

Ford grinned. This man was indeed a polite member of the human race. Ford was glad that his first conversation had been with him. “Thanks,” he said brightly, reaching for his rucksack and placing the Hamlet book inside, careful to check that his towel was still neatly folded at the bottom.

Arthur left Ford’s side and moved towards the bar, standing and waiting to be served. Ford watched him from his place at the table, the last words that he had read from ‘Hamlet playing and replaying in his mind.

‘Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a lyer, but never doubt I love.’

Odd that. His mind seemed now to recognise the general feeling given to those words. Ford didn’t understand the reason why he was dwelling upon that particular  set of words and  it was strange that those words had planted themselves in Ford’s mind. He didn’t even know what they meant.

Or did he?

Ford Prefect shook his head to rid it of stupidity. ‘Shakespear,’ he thought with a small smile, ‘ridiculous.’  


End file.
